The empyrean, once a lucent dome,Now putrefies in syrupy decay;Each constellation, like a crumbling tome,Sheds ancient light in spectral, wan display.His astrolabe, a relic of the mind,Spinning with frantic, geometric zeal,Seeks constellations he can never find,Fixed to a broken, kaleidoscopic wheel.The void is visceral, a turgid soup,Where gravity is but a ghost’s caprice;He watches burning phoenix-stars as they droop,Seeking in dark an elemental peace.No longer do the spheres in music chime,But grind like millstones in the sludge of time.
MICRO FINANCE unknown to many is the sole panacea to mass poverty eradication in human society.The blog specifically focuses on the industry around the world but with more bias on Africa-unarguably the poorest region of the world.
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